


And Then We'll Solve The Mystery Of Laceration Gravity

by TheAsexualKingoftheUniverse



Series: Promise Me That When I'm Gone You'll Kill My Enemies [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Nightwing (Comics), Robin (Comics), Young Justice (Comics)
Genre: ABA, Angst, Autism, Autistic Bruce Wayne, Autistic Tim Drake, Child Abuse, First Date, First Kiss, First Love, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, M/M, Racism, wow what a wild ride these tags are
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-11-12 03:55:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18003335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAsexualKingoftheUniverse/pseuds/TheAsexualKingoftheUniverse
Summary: A prequel to Make A Wish When Your Childhood Dies that covers how Tim and Kon first came to be.Also deals with how Bruce came to hate the Drakes.





	And Then We'll Solve The Mystery Of Laceration Gravity

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, guys! I know I promised a sequel coming up next, but this is the one that wound up being finished first. The sequel is still in the works, with plans for the rest of the series.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Title is from Our Lady Of Sorrows by MCR.

Kon was watching Robin again.

Robin was a suspicious figure; they all trusted him but could never tell if they were trusted in return. They knew nothing about his life. They didn’t even know his name.

Now, logically, Kon knew this could be chalked up to the paranoia inherent to the Bats. Batman, on the rare occasions Kon had met him, rarely spoke and had only ever made one reference to any semblance of a personal life (he’d referred to the Robins as his sons and then immediately left). 

Nightwing was slightly more open, but still only really talked about his hero life.

For obvious reasons, he couldn’t talk to the second Robin.

Robin stretched and yawned. Kon flew off to the kitchen, fetched one of Robin’s energy drinks, and flew back. He set in next to Robin’s hand.

“Thanks, Kon,” Robin said, giving him a tired smile. Kon smiled tentatively back.

“No problem, Rob. Listen, I’m gonna hit the hay. You should really take your mask off. I can tell it’s starting to bug you.”

“’kay.”

“Night, Rob.”

“Good night, Kon.”

Kon left the room again, the smooth doors sliding shut behind him.

“Wow, you really are gay for Robin,” said Bart.

“Shut the fuck up,” Kon hissed, grabbing the other boy and dragging him away, “He might hear you.”

“Oh no, your crush will find out you like him. Because that will turn out so horrifically.”

“Yes, it would! It fucking would!”

“Gee, Kon, it’s almost like he doesn’t check you out when you’re not looking.”

“What?”

“I’ve caught him staring at you in a gay way during our past seven battles.”

“What the hell does that even _mean_?”

“He was looking at like you like he was, like, DTF.”

“You don’t know that! You can’t even see his eyes!”

“Can you two postpone this conversation until tomorrow?” Snapped Cissie from behind them.

“Sorry, Cissie,” they mumbled.

“Also, Kon, you should totally try tapping that.”

“Fuck off. Fuck all the way off.”

* * *

Tim sulked back into the cave at four in the morning. Bruce was still up, hammering away at the keys. He looked up when Tim entered the room.

“Hello, Tim. How was your day?”

“I am _miserable_ ,” Tim declared, throwing himself dramatically onto one of the chairs.

“Why?”

“I am in a _crisis_ , Bruce.”

“…This is about Superboy, isn’t it.”

“He’s hot and nice, B. Is that allowed?”

Bruce shifted in his chair with a mildly distressed expression on his face.

“Well, it would, uh. Appear to be a common trait with the supers?”

“Oh, right. I forgot you were gay for Clark.”

“I am not gay for Clark.”

“Right, sorry. You’re bi for Clark.”

“I do not like Clark. He is a co-worker and nothing more.”

“He came to Dick’s birthday party.”

“Dick is...overly social.”

“He came to your birthday party.”

“I did not consent to either the birthday party or his presence.”

“You’re a drama queen, B,” Tim yawned. Bruce smiled at him fondly.

“Go to bed, son. You need your rest.”

“’Kay. Night, B.”

“Good night, Tim. Sleep well.”

“Sleep,” Tim ordered before making his way to the changing room, hesitant as ever to break Alfred’s rule on costumes upstairs.

* * *

Tim staggered into the kitchen, bleary-eyed, and promptly had a shocking realization.

“Alfred,” he gasped, “Is it really the Seventh?”

“Yes, Master Tim. Why do you ask?”

“My parents are coming home in thirty minutes!” Tim wailed, running for the back door. He shoved his feet into a pair of sneakers and took off for Drake Manor. He jumped the fence, sprinted across the backyard, and opened the backdoor with the spare key. He ran to his room, rapidly changing out of his pajamas and into a suit. He washed his face, combed his hair, and rushed down to the entrance hall.

Three minutes later, his parents opened the door.

“Welcome back,” Tim said with cheer he couldn’t feel.

“Your tie’s not on straight,” Janet said, a pinched expression on her face.

“My apologies, Mother-” He reached up and straightened it- “How was your trip?”

“Brilliant. We made some very valuable finds,” Jack replied, “Ran into a bit of trouble getting them out of the country, but a little cash slipped into the right pockets fixed that up nicely.”

“That’s wonderful, Father. I’m glad your journey was fruitful.”

“And what did you do while we were gone?”

“I studied, mostly. I’ve also been working on building ties with future associates in the business world.”

“Oh, really? With who?”

“I’ve been speaking with Richard Grayson.”

His parents froze.

“Oh,” Jack sneered, “ _That_ one.”

“I will never understand Bruce Wayne. Women throwing themselves at him and he chooses to have a gy- well, in the interest of good relations, let’s just call him a commoner- as his heir,” Janet said with disdain, “Timothy, you are not to associate with him.”

“I must. Wayne Enterprises is the top of all fields, except for shipping and transport. A partnership with them would be incredibly lucrative. You see, Mother and Father, I do not pick my friends for the pleasure of their company but rather for their usefulness.” The words tasted like ash in Tim’s throat, but his parents looked pleased.

“Excellent, son. That logic will carry you far,” Jack said.

“I suppose I can accept such an association for the betterment of the company,” Janet added.

And with those kind words, his parent went upstairs.

Tim collapsed into a nearby chair. He pulled out his phone.

 **Tim:** I’m sorry

Dick’s reply was instantaneous.

 **Dick:** For what? Are you okay?

 **Dick:** Need me to come to Gotham?

Tim smiled at his phone, tears stinging his eyes.

 **Tim:** Nah wrong person lmao

 **Dick:** Don’t scare me like that! You freaked me out, Timmy! L

 **Tim:** Sorry lol

 **Dick:** No worries. Just glad ur okay.

Tim clenched his hands tightly to curb the urge to bury himself in a pile of blankets.

“I wish you were my brother,” he whispered, giving voice to something he would never dare to share.

* * *

There was a gala that night, and Tim knew it was the only reason his parents were in town.

They sat in the limo, his parents quietly discussing something they didn’t care to share with him. He stared at his hands, rubbing them together.

“Quiet hands, Timothy,” his mother snapped.

“Sorry, Mother,” he mumbled. He pressed his hands into the car seat. Satisfied, his parents returned to their conversation.

They pulled up to the gala and his parents exited, Tim trailing behind them. He took a deep breath, exhaled, and pasted a mask across his face.

He was not Tim Drake right not. He was not Robin.

He was Timothy Jackson Drake, heir to the empire. 

* * *

 

Bruce scanned the room for Tim.

He knew ~~his~~ ( _not yours, Bruce, not your son_ ) the boy would likely be there with his… _parents_.

Dick had, for whatever reason, decided at the last possible second, decided to come to the Gala.

“I’m worried about Tim,” he’d said, “He texted me earlier saying he was sorry and then passed it off as some texting the wrong number bullshit.”

“That is…concerning.”

“Yeah, no shit. So, at any rate, I’m coming to the gala to try and check in on him.”

“Fair enough,” Bruce had agreed.

Finally, he caught sight of Tim, tucked away in Janet Drake’s shadow.

His boy was shut down, quiet. It was unnatural, almost painful to see.

He grabbed Selina by the arm as she passed by.

“Ms. Kyle,” he said with Brucie’s pleasant tone, “I have noticed our young acquaintance is a bit out of sorts. Would you mind stealing him over here for me?” Selina followed his gaze.

“Of course I’ll go pick up a darling little stray,” she purred, “On one condition. You and your birdies overlook any…missing baubles.”

“Deal.”

Selina slipped over to the Drakes, carefully extracting Tim from behind his parents. The duo made their way over to Bruce and Dick.

“Hey, chum,” said Brucie, “How are you?”

“Fine,” Tim ground out. His hands were tightly clenched, knuckles white. Bruce saw red.

“Dick, move to block the Drake’s view of Tim.”

Dick moved immediately.  

“Dick. Make a joke.”

“Uh…What do you call fake spaghetti?”

“I don’t know.”

“An im-pasta.”

There was a beat of silence. Tim giggled.

Then Bruce roared with laughter.

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard!” He cried. The hangers-on that leeched off of the Waynes surrounded them.

“It wasn’t _that_ funny,” Dick grumbled.

“No, it really was. Dick, tell everyone your joke.”

As Dick entertained the crowd, Bruce grabbed Tim and they slipped away down one of the hallways. Bruce let them into a coat roam.

“Tim,” Bruce said gently, “You can move your hands now.”

“But-”

“I won’t be mad at you. I _want_ you to let them be loud.”

“’kay.” Tim started rubbing his hands together. Bruce smiled at him.

“Better?”

Tim nodded.

“Good. Do you want a hug?”

“Not right now,” Tim murmured.

“That’s alright, chum. That’s alright.”

* * *

They could only afford fifteen minutes before Bruce had to sneak Tim back into the gala.

“You alright to go back, chum?” Bruce quietly asked him.

“Yeah,” Tim muttered, “Thanks.”

“It’s no problem, Tim. I know how important stimming is to Autistic people.”

Tim stopped and frowned.

“But I don’t have that anymore,” he insisted.

Bruce’s heart dropped like a stone.

“Tim…”

His phone buzzed.

 **Dick:** Get back asap. Drakes on move.

Bruce sighed.

“We’ll talk about this later,” he promised, “You’re not on patrol tonight, though. It’ll be too hard to hide from your parents.”

“Okay, B.”

* * *

Tim was jammed under the covers and really wanted to just stay there and never emerge again.

His parents had gone to the office for the day, so he could safely stay there for a while longer.

“Fore!” Yelled Dick as he landed on Tim’s bed.

“The fuck?” Tim cried, sticking his head out from under the covers. Dick grinned back at him.

“What are you doing in my house?”

“I can’t visit my sweet little successor?” Dick whined.

“I’m not having a good day, Dick.”

“But I brought you a present!”

“Fine,” Tim grumbled, crawling partway out from under the covers, “I guess you can give me your stupid present.”

Dick grinned even larger and handed Tim a plain shopping bag.

Tim opened it. There was a blanket in there.

“What’s this?”

“It’s a kind of blanket we Bats use to help with sleeping. I figured since you’ve been increasing your hours with your team you might want one.”

“Yeah, that’d be great. Thanks, Dick.”

“No problem, Timmy! What else are brothers for?”

They both froze.

“Oh, uh. Sorry. I overstepped,” Dick said.

“No, it’s. Uh. It’s fine? I mean, I wish you were my actual brother.”

“Well, if you want me to be your brother, then I am.”

“…really? It’s that easy?”

“Yep,” Dick replied cheerfully, “Celebratory brother hug?”

“Okay,” Tim agreed. He was immediately wrapped in a Dick Grayson TM hug. He relaxed into it, pressing his face into Dick’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice muffled.

“That’s the second time you’ve apologized to me in the past twenty-four hours. What’s wrong, Tim?”

“I…my parents. They’re…they were saying cruel things about you. Deriding you. Janet barely stopped herself from saying the g-slur. And I didn’t do anything to defend you. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, Tim,” Dick said, “I’m _glad_ you didn’t. I don’t think it would be smart of you to challenge them.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, Tim, it’s just…your parents are abusive.”

“What? No, they’re not. They’re just absent, is all.”

“No, Tim, they’re abusive. They leave you alone constantly, when they’re here they treat you like shit, and they’ve convinced you that there’s something wrong with you because you’re autistic!”

“There is,” Tim screamed, “That’s _exactly_ what’s wrong with me!”

“Oh, really now,” Dick replied, his voice icy, “So you think there’s something wrong with Bruce, too?”

“What?”

“Bruce is autistic, too. And there’s nothing wrong with either of you. It’s your parents who are the goddamn freaks.”

“Bruce is…like me?”

“Yeah. He is.”

“And…nobody fixed him?”

“No, Tim. Because that’s not fixing. That’s breaking people in an effort to force them to comply to the mould.”

“Oh,” Tim stared at his hands. They were unnaturally quiet. He fluttered them once. Then again. Steadily, he built up a rhythm. While he was focused on that, Dick picked up the weighted blanket and settled it around Tim’s shoulders.

He sat on the bed next to Tim for half an hour until Tim raised his head.

“So, uh. What do we do?”

“You’re going to have to stay here for a little longer, Tim. Just while they’re here and while Bruce works on getting you out.”

“Alright. Can I go on patrol tonight?” 

“I don’t see why not. I’ll see you tonight, then.” Dick gave Tim a half-hug and kissed his temple before ducking out the window.

Tim wrapped the blanket a little tighter around himself and smiled.

* * *

“Hey, B,” said a quiet voice from behind him. Bruce turned to see his youngest standing in the doorway of his study.

“Hello, Tim. Come in.”

Tim shuffled into the room, wrapped in the blanket Dick had brought him.

“I have a question.”

“Ask away, chum.”

“Are you really…like me?”

“Autistic, yes. Short, no.”

“Bruce! This is not a time for jokes!”

“I was just stating facts, Tim. Everyone knows I don’t make jokes.”

“Everyone is a fucking liar,” Tim grumbled.

“But, to be serious, yes. I am autistic.”

“Your hands aren’t quiet.”

“No, they’re not. Your parents…they sent you to ABA, didn’t they?”

“You mean the tutor?” Tim frowned.

“Of course they told you it was a tutor,” Bruce muttered, “Listen, Tim, that bullshit ‘therapy’ is just…it’s awful. They bill it as helping you but it’s just an enforcement of what they consider acceptable. I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

“I don’t get why you’re apologizing. You didn’t do anything,” Tim grumbled.

“Figurative language, sorry. We should go get ready for patrol.”

“’kay.”

* * *

The Drakes flew out three days later, and Tim immediately moved back into the Manor.

“Timmy,” Dick shrieked at the top of his lungs, charging through the hallway into the dining room, “Have you seen my purple Hermes shirt?”

“No.”

“Tim! Wally gets here in five minutes for our date!”

“Then change shirts.”

“I can’t! I did my makeup to go with that one!”

“The shirt in question is hanging in the laundry room freshly ironed, Master Dick.”

“You’re the best, Alfred,” Dick exclaimed as he took off again.

“Have a good time, chum,” Bruce yelled after him before turning to Tim, “Son, go get the door for Wally. Put the fear in him.”

“’Kay, Bruce.”

Wally grinned as the door was opened, only for it to droop a little when he saw it was Tim.

“Oh, uh, hi Tim. How are you?”

“Have him home by ten,” Tim said solemnly. Wally’s face dropped completely. Tim grinned at him.

“Just kidding. I’m great.”

“That’s, uh, great to hear?”

“Wally!” Dick yelled, launching himself at his boyfriend. Wally caught him with practiced ease.

“Hey, babe.”

“Take me away from these terrible people.”

“I’m wounded,” Tim deadpanned, “Have fun. I'll be on patrol and then I will be crying myself to sleep out of grief that my only brother doesn’t actually love me.”

“Bye, Tim. See you later!”

Wally carried Dick over to his terrible, ugly Honda and they drove off. Bruce popped out of the shadows.

“Well done, Tim. He’ll never figure out where the trackers are.”

“You’re welcome, though I still think this is a bad plan.”

“Nonsense. I have to know West’s intentions with my son. I will, of course, be doing the exact same thing to Kon-El when you finally ask him out.”

“I’m not asking Kon out. He doesn’t even know my name.”

“He could. You can tell him, I don’t care.”

“I’ll ask him out if you ask Clark out.”

“No deal. Let’s go finish dinner so we can start patrol.”

* * *

Robin finally returned to them on a Friday night, creeping into the Cave unnoticed.

He’d snuck up behind the others, who were immersed in movie night.

“Hey, guys,” he said.

They startled, leaping into combat-ready poses. Robin cracked up, and they all relaxed.

“What the hell, Rob?” Kon demanded.

“Your- your fucking _faces_!” Robin cackled.

“I hate the Bats,” Cassie muttered. Robin kept laughing, leaning on his bo staff for support.

Kon’s heartbeat accelerated. The moments where Robin let his mask down were few and far between, and he always treasured the reminders that his crush actually enjoyed his presence.

“So, what’re we watching?” Robin asked once he’d calmed down.

“Star Wars. Kon and Bart hadn’t seen it, which is a crime,” Cissie responded.

“Great, I love Star Wars,” Robin said, sitting down next to Kon. Kon fought to keep himself under control and not give his crush away.

Robin fell asleep on him partway through Empire.

“Aw, look at how cute he is,” Cassie cooed.

“He’s adorable,” Kon whispered, stroking Robin’s hair back from his face, “I’ll take him to his room.”

He picked up the smaller boy ( _shit, he’s so fucking_ light _, how is he alive_ ) and carried him off, resolutely ignoring Bart’s giggles and the clicks of pictures being taken.

He placed Robin on top of his bed, setting his bo staff in the corner, still in close reach if the other boy needed it in the night.

“Sleep well, Rob,” he said, slipping out of the room.

After he left, Tim opened his eyes.

“Huh,” he said to the room, “So he _does_ think I’m attractive.”

* * *

The next morning, the team gathered in the kitchen. Robin was, as per usual, drinking a nauseating amount of coffee.

“How do you do that?” Bart said, awestruck, as he did every time they ate breakfast together.

“Strength and self-hatred,” Robin snarked back, taking another sip of coffee, “Anyways, we have a mission tonight.”

“What’s the mission?” Kon asked.

“Some up-and-coming mob boss is trying to smuggle some guns into the New York harbor. Cops asked for an assist.”

“Oh,” Cassie said, clearly disappointed, “So an easy mission, then.”

“Yep, boring as hell,” Robin agreed.

“Hey, it’ll be relaxing,” Kon said brightly, “A weekend off from saving the world!”

“That’s the spirit. At any rate, we meet at Super-Cycle at seventeen forty-five. Dismissed.”

“We’re eating breakfast, you weirdo. You can’t dismiss us from eating breakfast,” Cassie said, flicking Robin on the forehead. He blushed.

“Shut up,” he mumbled, leaving the room. The laughter of his friends followed him.

* * *

Robin and Superboy were situated atop a loading crane in the harbor, Kon leaning casually against the machine and Robin crouched, intently focused on the incoming ship.

“Impulse, Wonder Girl, are you in position?” Robin called.

“I still don’t like this plan,” Bart grumbled.

“Yes,” Cassie replied.

“Alright,” Robin said, standing up, “Superboy, grab me. We take off in five, four, three, two, one.”

Kon grabbed him in a princess carry and took off flying.

“Not like _that_ , you imbecile!” Robin shrieked. Kon laughed.

He and Cassie dropped down onto the deck of the ship, hiding in the shadows before setting their disgruntled cargo.

“I hate you,” Robin bit out.

“Aww, my love has been rebuffed so violently.”

Robin froze.

“Do you mean that? That you… _like_ me?”

“Uh…” Kon froze, “Maybe? If you promise not to be mad, that is.”

“I’m not mad. I, uh, might feel the same way?”

“Wait, really? Holy shit. Do you, uh. Want to go on a date?”

“Yeah. Yeah, that’d be great.”

“Not that we haven’t been waiting for the moment and all,” Cissie snarked, “But we kind of have a situation on our hands.”

“Right,” Robin said, immediately snapping back to attention, “We’ll kick ass and then sort out our date.”

“You’re my kinda man, babe,” Conner replied, smirking and cracking his knuckles.

“Move in.” It was blink-and-you-miss-it, but for half a fucking millisecond, Robin sported a matching grin.

* * *

After they’d finished handing the mob boss over to the NYPD, Kon and Robin went off to the side to talk.

“So, uh. Date. You want one?”

“Yeah, Kon, I want to date you.”

“Are you free,” Kon made a show of looking at his left arm where he did not, in fact, have a watch, “Right now?”

“Yes,” Robin said, “Where should we go?”

“I’ve got an idea.”

“Oh?”

“I want to get back to my city by the bay,” Kon sang.

“San Francisco? Really?” Robin replied, smiling.

“Got it in one! Hey, guys, we’re taking off.”

“Have fun!” Cassie replied.

“Use protection!” Bart yelled, then let out a yelp of pain when Cassie smacked him.

Kon ignored them, instead picking up Robin and taking off again.

* * *

They touched down in Golden Gate Park a short while later.

“I, uh. Forgot to ask where you wanted to go to dinner,” Kon admitted.

“Oh,  _shit_. I don’t have my wallet.”

“And I just don’t have a wallet. Lemme check my pockets real quick.” He set Robin down and dug through his jacket pockets, emerging triumphantly with $16.73.

“What the hell can that buy?” Robin asked.

“In-N-Out!” Kon crowed, sweeping his new boyfriend- boyfriend! - off his feet again.

They drew some stares in the restraint, mostly from tourists who were unused to the presence of supers in their home cities. Kon ordered for them, Robin preferring to hide in the shadow of an artificial plant. Once Kon had gathered their food, they set off for Angel Island.

The island was deserted that late at night, and they sat side by side atop a picnic table looking out on the Golden Gate.

Tim was halfway through his burger when he realized that Kon didn’t know his name. Or his eye color.

That might be a problem.

“Kon,” he said, turning to his boyfriend, “I have something to tell you.”

“Hm?” Kon asked, mouth full. Tim reached up and pulled off his domino mask.

“My name is Tim Drake.”

“Wow. You, uh. Got even hotter. I didn’t think you could do that.”

“Shut up,” Tim mumbled, whacking Kon on the arm as his cheeks flushed.

“It’s a compliment! You’re very attractive!”

“Takes one to know one.”

“Oh my god,” Kon cried, “That was so smooth!”

“Yeah?”

“Yes! Yes, it was smooth.”

“Smooth enough that you’ll kiss me for it?” Tim froze immediately after the words left his mouth.

“Sure,” Kon said, and he leaned in and kissed Tim.

It was awkward as hell. Their noses bumped together and Kon accidentally bit Tim’s lip and neither of them could figure out how to breathe.

They broke apart after a minute or two, still leaning their foreheads against each other.

“That was great,” Tim said.

“Yeah,” Kon breathed, “Hey, want to do it again?”

“Oh, fuck yeah.”

* * *

They touched down at the Cave entrance a couple of hours later. Kon hesitated as Tim opened the door.

“Are…are you sure Bats isn’t gonna kill me?”

“Of course he won’t. B wants me to be happy. He’s been pushing me to ask you out for a while. Now, c’mon. Let’s go in,” Tim said, grabbing Kon by the hand and tugging him into the Cave.

Bruce was sitting at the Bat Computer, reviewing one of Dick’s reports.

“Hi, Batman,” Tim yelled cheerfully, “Guess what I finally did!”

“You asked Superboy out,” Bruce said jovially before he turned around. His eyes widened.

“Oh. You, uh. Actually did ask Superboy out.”

“Yep,” Tim replied, grinning like a maniac.

“Hi, Mr. Batman,” Kon muttered.

“Hello, Kon-el. I don’t think I need to warn you to respect him.

“Of course not, sir.”

“B,” Tim whined, “Leave him alone.”

A crackle came over the comm line.

“Batman, turn on the news. It’s important,” Nightwing ordered. Bruce sighed and turned on the news.

“-coming to you live from the scene of the Drake’s kidnapping. Janice, what’s going on?”

“Hello, Neil. We’ve received reports that it was actually the Obeah Man that kidnapped Jack and Janet Drake, not a gang as was previously believed. Police are refusing to state a motive for the kidnapping at present time. We’ll keep you updated.”

Tim’s head spun and he dropped to the floor.

* * *

Bruce hesitated before stepping in the Bat Plane.

“Should I do this?” He said to himself, “Should I…should I save these people?”

“Yes,” Dick said from the hanger entrance, “You should. Not because they’re good people, but because that’s what Batman does.”

But it was too late. We already know how this story ends: with Jack Drake in a coma and Janet dead on the floor. 

**Author's Note:**

> A few notes here about some of the subjects. I myself am autistic but have never gone through ABA. Tim's experience with it in is based off of some research I've done and experiences my friends have gone through. 
> 
> Also, the bit about Dick reacting to Tim not speaking up against his parents' racism wasn't supposed to be "Dick doesn't want to people to speak on racism," it's more of an "It's not safe for you to speak against your heavily abusive parents." Just wanted to make that clear lol.


End file.
